This week it says – ‘This weekend we are asking for a thirty-three word confession. You’re free to write non-fiction or fiction or to blur the lines in between. We just encourage you to get creative and give us your best.’

This piece is almost a non-fiction. All the moods and their exaggerations, that I try to capture through my writing, inspired by a complex called our world, almost dazzle me sometimes. I, for one, thankfully, have met very beautiful individuals – those who have mattered to me, even once. Write this as a confession and a wish that may they have a great life 🙂

‘I write when I feel alright’ – she said, smiling and answering a question, at her book launch.

But the color of her face, the inflection in the voice, told a different story. I had known her for long. Although today, it didn’t make much sense to lay those claims, as I sat in the audience, clapping fervently along with the others.

She had breached into my mind, many-a-times, rummaging through the compartments – that I had so carefully segregated. But there were the ones which were confined to the sanctum. I would be scared as I would hear her footsteps closing in. She was sly as a fox and compassionate as a saint – leaving me defenseless.

I tried to do that so many times myself. Emotions ensconced in reason, so that I could know. Her mind was a sanctum sanctorum. Where I parked things in pockets, she had a fortified mansion. She lived so much for every other that they drained her of herself. I was joining the league, I thought.

After a lot of struggle, I would give up. Feel her flow-in like a surge of a wave, when I would still be knocking at her door.

She got up to leave, and I sighed – ‘Maybe another 5 minutes..?’

My friend who accompanied me – started discussing her thoughts and her likings, very animatedly. And I thought to myself – ‘Oh! Really?’. I guess I would not know, or maybe it’s been a while! She must be in the pink of her health 🙂

His advent in my life, was lucky for me. Had ‘known’ him for a few days, and it was as if my life was on a roll.

I sat like a Cheshire cat, basking in his wide-eyed appreciation of my presence. Stealing some furtive glances of the very elegant him, I was severely conscious of myself and my paraphernalia – it was after all our first formal meeting.

I remember his shyness, as he would look away every time, we would get into a conversation – his lowered eyes, resting occasionally on me – which at other times, were fixed on me.

I remember the flutter in my heart, the slight shiver of hands, that I smarted with concealing gestures. I wanted this man.

I remember getting up from the table, noticing a goddess of beauty, sitting near our table. His devoted attention despite such distraction –Oh! I loved this man.

Love! What a feeling… We kept in touch.

I was later told of his being squint-eyed. A quick revisit to the scene and the stars in my eyes were the stones that were hurting!